Shattered Reflections
by ParamoreXO
Summary: His eyes are like mirrors, and mirrors never lie.


**Summary: His eyes are like mirrors, and mirrors never lie.**

**Character Dynamics: M'Gann, Superboy**

**Disclaimer: Don't own it.**

**A/N: This is a three part fic.**

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><p><em><strong>Part I: Reflected Revelations<strong>_

_Takes place anytime before episode #10, "Targets"_

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><p><strong>The glassy reflection reveals far more than it should. <strong>Despite the variations of skin tones that are able to embody her, ranging from Martian Green to Caucasian, each charade fails to fool M'Gann of the true pigment that lies underneath. She wants to believe in what she has succeeded to convince her teammates of, but she's living a complete lie that she willingly wears on her sleeve.

For nearly sixteen years she had flickered like a flame under the pressure of the Green majority of the Martian race. If she hadn't stowed herself away on her Uncle's venture to Earth, perhaps their smother might have extinguished her altogether. Now, however, she's living in a whole new world that offers her opportunity she had all but dreamed of back home. Under the dogmas of her Uncle and of her teammates, her friends, the spark of life ignites within her and she begins to grow like fire. Her hair blazes a path down her neck as her telepathy licks the sides of her psyche. The words are redundant in her mind by now, but she cannot help but think that she has emerged as a whole new person on this probable planet.

After spending hours in the confines of her room, sifting through countless aliases, morphing from myriads of outfits, and filtering through countless hair colors and styles; Megan Morse stands before her body length mirror, giving off an essence of pure pride.

And for now, she forgets her life on Mars and embraces the destiny Earth lies out before her.

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><p><em><strong>Part II: Broken Mirrors<strong>_

_Takes place during episode #10, "Targets"_

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><p>After revealing to Connor of the racial diversity on Mars during their World History class, regret instantly gnawed at Megan's conscious. Maybe it was his lack of a reply. Sure, Connor was quiet and thoughtful, but it would've been nice to have even a sliver of feedback. Telepathically, verbally, or physically, any form would have been reassurance enough for her to carry on throughout her day. But, to her dismay, he had said and done nothing. A question to further explore the topic never came. The bodily warmth of a reassuring hand on her shoulder failed to aspire to her expectations. He had not even spared her a nod of acknowledgement.<p>

Nothing.

So now, four class periods later ( all absent of Connor ), she waited on him at her locker where both had agreed to meet. In each hand, a sack lunch shook as her nerves pulsed in irregular bursts.

The rush of hungry students in the halls weathered down to a trickle of stragglers, all destined for the cafeteria. Having compared the class schedules they had received in the morning, Megan knew that Connor was coming from the opposite end of the building. She was uncertain as to if being tardy for the designated lunch time counted against students, but knew that if they were a few minutes late, it was within reason. Perhaps it was anxiety that stemmed from first period that caused her to become irrationally impatient. The echoes of the cacophony her fellow classmates had created still rang off the walls, yet she knew she was alone.

"Ready to eat?"

Startled, Megan whipped around to confront the familiar, inquiring voice. Mid-turn, however, her knee jarred the open door of her locker, causing a sharp pain to rocket down her leg. A yelp of surprise was ripped from her lips as she began to collapse in reaction to her buckling legs. Quick, supportive hands caught her around both arms and hoisted her firmly to her feet before the rest of her body could meet the ground. Glancing up at her redeemer, alien blood rushing to her cheeks upon spotting the smirk that scarcely morphed Conner's lips. "Thanks," her rejoinder was breathy and soft, like a slight gust from wilted wings.

A mellifluous chuckle came from his throat like a burst of hot honey, a sound so sweet to her ears. Bending down to retrieve the discarded brown paper bags that contained their meals, he couldn't help but further enrich her flustered state, "Why is it that I'm always around to save you from imminent danger?"

Accepting the bag he offered back, she was quick to avert her gaze from his when his fingers grazed her own. Her throbbing knee caused her toes to tingle, but his touch nearly made them curl. "Because," she began in a supple tone, falling into a pace equal to his as they trekked to the cafeteria, "I want you around."

Once again, she is greeted with silence. Their destination was mere minutes away, yet she could not help but feel as if they have been dragging along the halls for hours. The topic of her home planet and their earlier discussion swallowed her mind. The doubts devour all rational thought. And the truth burns through her like acid.

The pair become faintly aware of the dissonance of voices concealed behind the double doors of the dining hall. Stepping ahead of her, Connor pushes against a panel and it slides open for her with ease. Motioning for her to enter first, he smiles and for a moment their line of vision collides.

The amplified roar of speech assaults her ears but she is able to ignore the noise. All she knows is the bright, shocking pigment of his eyes, brittle with compassion but hardened by anger.

_He has eyes like mirrors._

Even Megan Morse can see the full blown lie staring back at her. But in that reflection, she can't see a trace of what she's concealed, either.

"Uhh… I saw a guy do this for a girl, once. It's supposed to, um, be… polite… or something."

Acutely aware of the collective stares centralized on them, Megan swiftly rushes past the querulous boy and his polite gesture. Muttering her thanks, she senses Connor closing the door behind them as her eyes scout out for Wendy's vivid Bumblebee uniform or for Marvin's disheveled helmet hair. Spotting the familiar, affable faces and returning their beckoning waves, she looks towards her teammate for him to comply with seating arrangements. Their eyes lock once again, as if attracted by a powerful force of magnetized emotion.

All she sees is a complete stranger reflected back when she stares into his eyes.

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><p><em><strong>Part III: Show Your Bones<strong>_

_Takes place immediately after episode #18, "Secrets"_

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><p><strong>It's supposed to be a costume, and in a way it is, but for the most part she couldn't be more true to her actual appearance. <strong>Giving off the impression of a zombie bride, aided by a torn dress and veil, dark makeup, and pallid flesh; M'Gann cannot help but devote a smile of gratitude towards Wally at his compliment on her attire. Usually, she would blatantly ignore his flirtatious comments, but tonight she's eager to accept any form of flattery.

Long after the tumblers of the High School doors lock into place and the partygoers disperse ( along with Wally, despite his claims of staying out late for the full moon ) M'Gann and Connor wander along weathered sidewalks of bustling neighborhoods. Hand in hand, their arms sway together and she can't help but smile at how _right _it feels to have his flesh against hers this way. She's grown accustomed to the comfortable silences that envelope them whenever they're alone together. For now, her bright eyes follow groups of kids out to trick or treat with amusement.

_Do you think we'll spot Captain Marvel at someone's doorstep? _Her question spears his personal musings, bleeding into his mind.

Laughter escapes his lips and flees into the crisp air of the night. _I've already seen a few, actually. Are superheroes the only inspiration kids have for costumes?_

_Actually, I find it flattering. I mean, obviously none of these kids are dressing up as our team, but it's kind of cute… _Glancing down at their entwined hands, a humble smile glosses over her darkened lips. _Everyone needs a hero._

Maybe she had struck a raw nerve within him, for his end of the telepathic link only emitted silence. Figuring the cause for his abrupt mute state dealt with some nature of Superman, M'Gann was quick to clarify her statement.

_You're my hero, Connor._

Relief devastates her trepidation at his lighthearted response. _I've definitely saved you enough times to classify as your hero._

Gently tugging on his arm to table their leisurely pace, they face each other, completely submerged under the glow of a streetlamp. She reaches out for his other hand and he instantly complies, fingers curling around hers. _And as my hero I want to tell you something._

One of his eyebrows quirk, _Something… like a confession?_

Her eyes have yet to meet his. She fidgets under his gaze like a specimen would under the lens of a microscope. _Yes._ Carefully, she spreads her fingers out against his, pressing their palms together. His are much larger than hers, a laughable comparison, and she suddenly feels fragile… As if anything he does in retaliation would shatter her. _Remember what I told you about the two Martian races on Mars?_

Instead of replying telepathically, he slowly nods his head.

_And how the White Martian race is the minority to the Green?_

By now, she can feel his heartbeat in her hand. It's completely unsynchronized with her own throbbing heart, but the offbeat helps remind her to focus, to breathe...

Keeping one palm pressed to hers, he liberates his opposite hand and hooks a finger under her chin, tilting her gaze to align with his. She had been afraid of what she would see reflected in the lucid pigment of his eyes. But now, staring past the white, mirrored figure, she sees the raw emotion of the boy her heart is bleeding into.

He's all she can see.

Leaning into her, Connor rests his forehead against hers. _I know. _He feels the slight thrust of her chest against his torso as she sharply draws in a breath. He presses the slight grin of his lips against the tip of her nose. She instantly melts under the gesture, and the arm that had rested against hers slyly snakes around her waist. She's all he can feel, all he can sense, and, for the moment, all that he needs. _M'Gann, you may be the minority on that planet, but to me, nothing is more important than you._

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><p><strong>AN: After drawing many parallels throughout Young Justice, I can say with a lot of certainty that M'Gann is not a Green Martian, but White. Not convinced? Let me elaborate. M'Gann's illustrated character bio notes that she "hides her true appearance." In "Targets," she explains to Connor that the White Martian race is the minority to the Green Martians with an undertone of passion… as if she belongs to the White race herself. In "Disordered" Black Canary states that she has subconsciously turned white ( when she really meant Caucasian ) and M'Gann freaks out, yelling "No!" There may be a few other facts to add to that, but I am convinced that her skin tone is not truly green.**

**Anyways, I'm really surprised at myself. I do not hate her character, but M'Gann is definitely not a favorite of mine. I was curious to explore this angle of her disposition, however, and thus this fic was born within the course of an hour or so. I've only written minor ( **_**very **_**minor ) dialogue for her in previous Young Justice fanfictions and have written none for Superboy, so it'd be nice to receive some feedback for this!**

**Thanks for reading!**


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